Desolation

25. Food Fight

Rocky Point, Mexico

“Bill King? Bill King, are you in there? I want to speak with you,” a familiar voice demanded outside on their patio.

Bill, in the kitchen with Lisa, pulled his gun from his scabbard and approached the left side of the open sliding patio door, using the wall as cover. He felt some assurance from his two trusty companions: paranoia and his .45. They were forever by his side since he’d had to kill the drug dealer who had been out to get Max and his family on the day of the Event.

Carefully, he peeked around the wall; it was Clyde Clydeston, standing at the foot of their beach access stairs, with at least two others. “What can I do you for, Clydeston?” he called back in a dry voice, even though his heart was racing. Bill stood half obscured by the wall, his gun pointed at the ground, but in plain view of Clydeston and his group.

“King, I don’t want to make any trouble for you, but you need to give us some of your food!” One of the three was Judas the pervert. Clydeston looked to be the leader. The bluster in his voice grew more pronounced. “Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about. I know your idiot friend Thompson gave you food. It is time you shared the wealth with your neighbors."

Clydeston started to ascend the Kings’ beach access stairs, a revolver in one hand, his two supplicants tentatively following behind him. The pervert brought up the rear, carrying a knife, acting as if that wide-brimmed hat hid his identity, and… Scott Smith?

My God, this was happening just as Max had said on the day of the Event.

Shock and fear fought an emotional battle within Bill for supremacy, and shock was winning. Two of these people (not the pervert) had been to dinner at their home, and were now making demands and threatening violence against them—after barely a month?

This had to stop now. He leveled his gun toward Clyde, prepared to at least fire a warning shot and make his own demands, when he heard a voice to his right. “Freeze right there, Clyde,” Lisa roared in a tone of authority he had never heard from her before.

Bill’s head spun. Lisa now held his attention and that of the others as well. She was standing on the other side of the open patio door, aiming one of Max’s M4 rifles right at Clyde, using the doorway to steady herself.

“I mean it, Clyde. I will have no problem dropping you where you stand.” Her voice and posture, clearly visible to all, made clear her intention.

Bill was filled with both pride and fear for his wife, standing in the open as she was. That door frame wouldn’t do much if shots were fired.

“Hold on Lisa, we were just coming to talk,” Clyde pleaded, stopping on the third step, shoving his revolver into his pocket and holding his hands out in a plaintive gesture. He hadn’t expected that from her.

Bill jumped in, his Colt aimed again, this time at Clyde’s torso. “Right, that’s why you’re making demands while carrying a gun and Judas there is holding a knife.” Judas was so startled at being recognized, thinking his hat hid him, he dropped his knife in the sand.

Lisa nodded toward the beach. “We’ll make it simple. Turn around and leave right now and I won’t shoot a hole in your smug face.”

“Come on. We were friends once, you know, before the power went out,” Clyde said, his false grin wide and inviting. He spoke very casually, like he was trying to persuade them to come out for a beer and cigars. He turned his head almost imperceptibly and whispered, “Scott, you go around the front to the other side and take that bitch and her husband by surprise.”

Scott Smith sported bushy red whiskers, the unchecked facial hair now the norm for most men. His face wore a pained look of indecision. He tugged at the back hem of his torn black T-shirt that declared I Got Wrecked at the Reef in Rocky Point.

Clyde filled with anger, spoke through clenched teeth so his voice wouldn’t carry, “Go or I’ll shoot you myself, and your pretty little wife.” Smith went.

“Lisa, come on.” Clyde held his hands up higher, still not advancing, his Cheshire grin widening. “Why won’t you share a little of your food? You know, some of us are starving. How can giving a little hurt you?”

“How do you know we have anything?” Lisa looked over to Bill, who hadn’t moved, keeping his eyes on Clyde.

“Come on, I was there at church too, when you offered the reverend some food. That was very noble of you. I’m only asking you to help some of those you know.”

Her certainty of what to do next was evaporating with every passing moment of this stand-off.

26. Demands

Laramie, Wyoming